SCI FI BOOK!!!!!

I now will post what you have all been waiting for… MY SCI FI BOOK!!!!!! This is my first draft so probably not too fancy, if you have any recommendations please say in comments.

Also if any of you are editors or cover designers please contact me at chinchillawinks@gmail.com, I would LOOOVE your help.

Thank you all for your support! Please don’t copy mah story into your books, but coincidences happen, I won’t be mad. 😉

Here it goes…….

Chapter 1

I open my eyes.

Where am I?

I gaze at a bright, pearly ceiling. My vision blurs and my head throbs.

Shutting my eyes, I slowly count to ten. Once again my vision is blurred.

My sight adapts until I can identify its decorative marble design. A blinding chandelier dangles from it.

What is this place?

I turn to the right only to see a ceramic sink, and beside that, a mirror.

A girl is in the reflection. Her brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles are so strikingly familiar, all except for her sickly, white skin. A thin, pearly hospital gown barely covers her knees, blood stains the collar, marring its crisp perfection.

Who is she?

What interests me the most is her eyes, so heavy with emotion that reflects my own.

Maybe those eyes are mine, and maybe it’s my reflection.

I tumble off the hospital bed and creep towards the mirror. The familiar eyes study mine as we crawl towards each other. 

I reach out to touch the mirror. The chilling surface seems to burn my fingertips. Our hands touch.

“Who are you?” The words tear out of my throat like daggers, I cough, but the pain only increases in my parched throat. I shakily lift myself until I stand. I wave my fingers under the water nozzle and water spurts out. 

Gulping down the water is a dream. I cup my hands and drink, quenching my thirst. The cool drink heals my throat like magic would. I close my eyes and splash water on my face. Blood rinses from my lashes.

With trembling legs, I creep from the sink and back to the mirror. A bit of color comes back to my face.

Who am I?

I leap back and gasp. A door opens, camouflaged of marble, a girl enters.

“Tasman!” She cries happily. Her joyful, honey brown eyes smile at me, her flamboyant hair, matching her eyes, frames her delicate, copper face. “Tasman, you are okay!”

Tasman?

Her familiar face almost brings comfort to me. I recognize every curl of her hair and blink of her eyes.

Where have I seen her?

She jumps beside me and wraps her arms around my shoulders, which scares away any comfort she brought.

Who is this girl?

I fling her off and strike her face. She screams a blood-curdling cry. I bolt out the door before it can even close behind her.

Adrenaline takes over, running into a marble hallway I encounter a fork. I automatically turn left into an identical marble hallway. My head throbs and I slow down. My bare feet are battered from the carpetless, marble floor.

When adrenaline wears off, walking is a challenge, my legs tremble, barely supporting me. I lean on a cold wall, panting. 

The walls are overwhelmingly white, the air tastes dramatically fresh, but the pure silence is only for me to disturb.

The rhythm of my breathing fills the hallway.

What is this place? And why am I here?

My vision begins to cloud. I wipe my eyes, though the pressure of my fingers in them increases my headache. Dripping down my fingers is blood.

Blood.

My eyes must be bleeding.

I hear footsteps coming from behind me. I whip around and see two men with heavy, white coats. They look at me, confused, “Miconyx Twelve? Is that you?” I stare back.

Do I recognize them? No, but definitely those coats.

But that name, Miconyx Twelve, where have I heard it?

“Patient Miconyx Twelve, come here immediately!” One pulls a gadget from his coat and talks into it, the other runs towards me, “Miconyx Twelve!”

I wobble in an attempt to run away from them, cringing as my feet slam in the floor. My head throbs and vision begins to cloud. I try to clear my eyes but again the pressure hurts.

The noise of their footsteps sound louder and closer. They yell for “Miconyx Twelve” again but I ignore them and speed my pace. My balance is awkward, my weak legs barely can move any faster. Surely I would fall.

Their footsteps come closer and closer. 

Why am I here? What did I do to deserve this?

My legs tire, energy levels drop. The men come closer until in arm reach. One attempts to grab my arm.

Emotions flood through me, confusion, frustration, anger.

Anger.

My fingers tingle and grow warm, energy floods through them. I toss a dagger at the man’s heart. He collapses.

What? Where did that blade come from? Surely it couldn’t have just appeared. 

I glance at my hand, blood drips down my arm. The skin is gone, it is metal.

What am I?

The other knocks me over and pins me to the ground. I scream. I thrash my legs. I cry, but it’s all useless when I have no power to fight.

“Get off me!” I holler, terrified. A dozen men run through the hall toward us, half of them carry guns.

My vision then blurs, it blacks out. A shiver of terror runs down my spine. The pain in my head increases, like my fear.

Hands grab my arms and toss me into what must be a stretcher. Tears of frustration stream down my face. I am helpless, I can’t protect myself in any way.

But that dagger that appeared, where did that come from?

“Open your eyes,” a gruff voice commands.

“Why?” I croak.

“Just do it or face the consequences.” I open them and a cold, refreshing liquid seeps in. I shut them again immediately after.

The stretcher jerks forward, then continues on. I hug my legs to my chest for comfort and relax. Sleep threatens, but I resist. I shouldn’t even be resting, I should be paying attention to where they are taking me. I open my eyes, and can see everything perfectly clear. We head through a doorway with a sign reading “Miconyx Twelve” on top.

Again with the Miconyx thing…

But who am I? Tasman? Miconyx? Twelve?

That’s silly, why would anyone be a number?

They practically dump me into a crisp, white bed. All my pain rages inside me, anger alit. I cast an evil glance at the fourteen people surrounding me, one is dressed in a white coat, twelve in padded, armour costume, each includes a helmet, six of them carry guns, and the last person is the girl, dressed in jeans and an orange shirt.

Her. The first of these creeps I saw, the only one who didn’t abuse me, maybe I shouldn’t have harmed her. She looks so familiar, I even felt relief when I first saw her.

She studies my face. I sneer at her, she flinches and turns to the doctor. They whisper to each other while the six men point guns at me. I shudder, they could pull the trigger any second now. 

The doctor pulls out a syringe from his coat. He approaches me with caution, either because the guns or me. 

“Hold out your wrist, please,” The doctor commands through his bushy beard.

“No,” I insist. I’m not sure what that syringe contains.

He groans, obviously annoyed. “Look, you have six guns pointed at you, this is a painkiller, if you know what that means.” He sighs, “Now hold out your wrist.”

I reluctantly do so. I watch in horror as he disinfects my skin with a wipe. Then he injects a liquidy blue ooze into my wrist. I watch him while he does so, sweat drips from his forehead. He must be scared of either the guns pointed at us.

Or maybe he’s scared of me.

The guns are the reason I follow along with his plans, I don’t trust any of them at all. Their abusive behavior may be why. 

He leaves the room immediately after, the twelve, helmeted men follow him out. Only the girl and I remain.

The men leave, then an awkward silence fills the room. I slouch on the bed and twist the gown’s lace in my fingers, giving myself a distraction.

“Tasman,” She says meekly, “You don’t remember me, do you?” I cringe and ignore her, not sure how to respond. I hear her breathing, it sounds unconfident if possible. “Do you remember Avian?”

The name triggers something in me, joy, relief, comfort.

“Tess, do you remember your name?” I glance at her, she bites her lip, concerned. 

I close my eyes. What is my name and who am I? They called me Tasman, Miconyx Twelve, Tess… who’s Avian? “My name is… Avian?”

She erupts into laughter, I grin. “No, Avian is your friend.” Her laughter brings warmth and familiarity to the room. It’s almost as if I remember these moments, where we laugh and talk together. Maybe we were friends before. 

“Then what is my name?” I ask. Her laugh stops, her face contains a pained expression, her eyes look heavy with sorrow.

“Your name is Tasman, how could you not remember?” I shrug. “And you obviously don’t remember me either.” I shake my head. “Doctor Amierlon said your memory will come back soon… hopefully.” She says.

I nod, “I do recognize you though.”

She smiles, “Well, you should probably get some rest.” She grins, “but first you must realize what you truly are,” She holds up a fist and shuts her eyes. 

I stare in horror.

Her skin liquifies and trickles off her wrist, the color of blood. A metal hand is exposed, and like a flower grows from the soil a dagger practically sprouts from Elica’s hand.

“How…” I look at both my hands, but the skin is back. I look back at her hand with the dagger in its grasp.

“Tasman, we’re both not completely human like the others,” She smiles. “We’re stronger.”

Her skin slowly grows back. First, a layer of ooze covers her hand, then it dries. Her hand looks as good as new.

“Now go to sleep, regain your memories. Tomorrow you will be coming back to us.” She makes her way to the door.

“But what is your name?” I ask.

The look of sorrow comes back, “Elica.” She flicks the lights off and leaves.

Also, this book is currently called Miconyx Twelve because I don’t have a title idea yet. I’m not really far enough in the book

But Miconyx pronounced Mih-COH-nix, emphasis on the COH. It’s not like miko-nix or anything.

😛😛😛🙂😛🙂🙂🙂🙂😆😆😃😃😄😄